Dear friends,
On Tuesday, November 26, at 6:18 pm, on the 43rd and final day of my long trip around the globe (and then some), Lamya and I landed at a quiet but unsettled Beirut airport. Announcements of planned airstrikes in Ras Beirut close to the American University of Beirut had flooded social media and news outlets. Several people rushed to inform me of the pending danger across Beirut, urging us not to attempt to head back to the campus until the situation had improved. The airport road, which usually takes 10-15 minutes to navigate on a Tuesday evening, was closed.
Our first call was to the university's resourceful, intrepid vice president for administration,
Mary Jaber Nachar, who briefed me on the situation. Hundreds of concerned AUB community members, learning their neighborhoods were to be targeted by Israeli airstrikes, had flooded the streets surrounding AUB and its medical center to seek safety on our campus. As we collected our suitcases, we were met at the airport by the indispensable head of our
protection office,
General Fadi Ghorayeb. He offered options to best navigate the path to campus. We chose the one he recommended: a trip up through Mount Lebanon, down through Baabda, and down into Beirut.
AUB COMMUNITY MEMBERS, LEARNING THEIR NEIGHBORHOODS WERE TO BE TARGETED BY ISRAELI AIRSTRIKES, HAD FLOODED THE STREETS SURROUNDING AUB AND ITS MEDICAL CENTER.
It had been many decades since I had taken such a circuitous route from Beirut's airport to Ras Beirut. We braced for a long ride, while the leadership team on campus managed logistics to provide shelter for hundreds of AUB students, staff, faculty, and their families for an overnight stay while they anxiously awaited for the ceasefire to hold. Their courage, coordination, wisdom, and dedication meant I arrived in Ras Beirut beaming with pride and reassurance.
The indirect path Lamya and I took was similar to that my brother Ramzi and I had braved more than four decades ago during the Lebanese Civil War, with our late father Raja N. Khuri, then dean of
medicine at AUB, and the adroit Omar Faour, who was head of the motor pool. Admittedly, this trip was considerably less daunting absent the militia checkpoints of yesteryear. The roads were largely clear, and we made it to campus in under 75 minutes. This contrasted with the hours-long journey we had undertaken during the civil war. At that time, upon arriving home to my calm but clearly relieved mother, I had tried to make light of it, to show her my younger brother's courage and my own teenage bravado had not been shaken by the many brushes with armed men at checkpoints. She soothed us by reminding us that there would be better days ahead, gave us a late-night dinner, and sent the two of us off, each to our own troubled sleep.
THE INDIRECT PATH LAMYA AND I TOOK WAS SIMILAR TO THAT MY BROTHER AND I HAD BRAVED MORE THAN FOUR DECADES AGO WITH OUR LATE FATHER AND THE ADROIT OMAR FAOUR DURING THE LEBANESE CIVIL WAR.
The last shelling in greater Beirut was heard at 3:35 am on Wednesday, November 27. There were to be no classes that day. The ceasefire followed the minister of education and higher education's decision to close all schools and universities on November 27, allowing people to catch their breath and revive their flagging spirits from a brutal war.
I was more than ready to return to the office after several weeks away. My trip, which I will describe in a subsequent
President's Perspective, had been physically punishing but exceeded expectations, culminating in an
extraordinary fundraiser in New York City, where we secured much needed support to keep going despite all our challenges. This was thanks to the tremendous generosity of our
trustees, hundreds of friends and alumni, our formidable
Advancement team, and our long-term partners the Mastercard Foundation, Ford Foundation, USAID, and the Government of Qatar, all of whose faith in our determination to carry out our mission to the fullest extent has never wavered. All this hard work and dedication helped us secure crucial funds at a critical moment; at this dinner, through emergency relief appeals, and during our fifth
Giving Day, held this past Monday.
WE SECURED MUCH NEEDED SUPPORT TO KEEP GOING DESPITE ALL OUR CHALLENGES.
On the morning of Wednesday, November 27, as the ceasefire took hold, and as the overhead drone which had buzzed above our heads faded from eyesight and relieved our ears, Lamya and I listened to
Days like This, which George Ivan (Van) Morrison authored in 1995 to memorialize the Irish peace accords, again and again.
When it's not always raining there'll be days like this
When there's no one complaining there'll be days like this
When everything falls into place like the flick of a switch
Well my mama told me there'll be days like this
When you don't need to worry there'll be days like this
When no one's in a hurry there'll be days like this
When you don't get betrayed by that old Judas kiss
Oh my mama told me there'll be days like this
When you don't need an answer there'll be days like this
When you don't meet a chancer there'll be days like this
When all the parts of the puzzle start to look like they fit it
Then I must remember there'll be days like this
There'll be days like this
…
When no one steps on my dreams there'll be days like this
When people understand what I mean there'll be days like this
When you ring out the changes of how everything is
Well my mama told me there'll be days like this
Our first weekend back at AUB passed relatively quietly. On
Founders Day, the great
Carol Bellamy, two-time UNICEF president, AUB trustee emerita, and an uncompromising champion of children's education, inspired us with a magnificent speech, as did our remarkable student essay winner. Speaking to our theme for this Founders Day on what more we can do to preserve, protect, and improve pre-university education, Carol Bellamy said, “If nations are to have a peaceful, sustainable future, we must get education back on to the global 'to do list' – and make sure it is not only high on that list, but connected to everything
else on that list."
Held on the same day, as it has been from the very beginning, AUB Giving Day was also a tremendous success. Donations are still being counted, but we already have record-breaking engagement from around the world. More than 1,100 individual donors from more countries than ever (78, so far), as well as every single US state plus Washington, DC (a record), and six out of ten Canadian provinces (another record) took part. The total amount raised is more than $1.8 million. This tremendous show of support speaks to the strength and commitment of the AUB community around the world and sent yet another powerful message of hope to all of us on campus and at the medical center.
While none can foretell what the next steps will be in this unpredictable world, our faculty and students are all focused on finishing the fall term effectively and well. Despite what the country and its people have endured, some have expressed genuine belief that a better, more sustainable Lebanon could emerge from the smoldering embers of the latest conflict. Once more there is hope for a period of quiet, of better days without violence and strife. As Van Morrison's music and words echoed through a largely quiet College Hall, I reminded myself that indeed, in the very worst times, “my mama told [my brother and] me there'll be days like this."
ONCE MORE THERE IS HOPE FOR A PERIOD OF QUIET, OF BETTER DAYS WITHOUT VIOLENCE AND STRIFE.
